


Bus Ride

by orphan_account



Category: Emmerdale, robron interest
Genre: M/M, Sexual Identity, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 17:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5506019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teen Robert is on a bus journey home from Leeds. He meets another passenger and decides to get off the bus with him before the last stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bus Ride

His attention was caught as soon as the lad got on.

Black hair, black eyes, pasty white skin, older than Robert. He looked like a throwback to the 50’s. Was it brylcreem in his hair? A teddy boy? Seriously? Why would he dress like that? White t shirt and an old heavy black studded leather jacket hanging in his arms. Trousers with a high waistband, in this day and age?  Below the waistband the trousers followed the curve of his arse. Robert looked away and closed his mouth, putting his hand in his pocket, he found the folded bus timetable and took it out, turning it in his fingers.

It’s a 40 minute bus ride from Leeds back to Emmerdale, 50 minutes if the traffic’s bad. It was five in the evening, dark outside, bus lurching from stop to stop, the doors sliding open and closed.

Robert sat near the back, leaning his head on the window, his hair sliding against the cold glass, on the way back from an errand for his Dad. A wasted effort. His lips curled. He’d offered with a fake willingness, and his Dad had nodded and sent him off without a backward glance, turning back to Andy to talk about a job they were doing on the farm. He’d know better next time.

The boy was walking up the aisle, snaking his way towards the back of the bus, alternating his hands on the metal bars at the top of each seat, His knuckles were tattooed crudely LOVE and HATE. A joke. A cliché. Robert’s eyes skipped to the front of his black trousers, then he looked out the window again. He had a vision of the zip being pulled slowly down, revealing the lollipop of his cock head, one eyed, shiny. Robert shifted his pelvis on the synthetic tartan seat.

He glanced up as the lad got closer. He had a gap between his top teeth and his lips were red as cherries and far too full, especially the bottom lip, which was dry and split with a single red scab down the centre.

He’d been in a fight, then.

The boy slid across the seat parallel to Robert’s, sliding his way across all the way to window. He turned to Robert and nodded.

Robert crossed his left ankle over his right leg and put his forearm over his lap. He needed to hide the uncomfortable bulge in his pants.

‘Alright?’ The lad said with a smile, revealing the gap between his teeth more clearly. Why was he smiling for God’s sake? ‘You’re one of the Sugden lads, aren’t you?’

Robert swallowed and nodded.

‘Thought I recognized you. Did a bit of work on your Dad’s farm. You wanna see summat? I’ve got summat to show you.’

‘Yeah?’ Robert said.

‘It means getting off a stop early, like. You up for it?’

‘Maybe.’  Robert’s heart thudded. They sat in silence. Robert wondering what he’d agreed to.

They’d called his Dad to school. He’s too impulsive, the teachers had said.

‘Why? Why are you so impulsive?’ His Dad had asked. ‘Get a bit of self-control, lad.’

Then the boy moved suddenly next to him. His shoulder collided with Robert’s as he settled himself. His thighs spread stretching the black cloth of his trousers into horizontal creases. He smelt of machine oil and cigarettes and something else; something boyish and sweet.

Robert put the bus time table on his lap and put his hand up to hold onto the seat in front.

‘You still at school? I’m in college, second year, gonna be a mechanic. Hated fucking school. Whacked a teacher and got kicked out College is better. How old are you?’

‘Fifteen.’

‘Not old enough then.’

‘You what?’ Robert sneered. Not about to be intimidated by age.

‘For college. Or for what I’m gonna show ya. But don’t worry.‘ He winked. His eyes had fine lines when he smiled. ‘I won’t tell. And you farm lads like these things. I can guarantee you’re going to like it.’

‘This is the stop.’

 He swung his hips up and walked swiftly back down the aisle, his leather jacket knocking against the metal rails. Robert followed. They got off the bus onto a grassy pavement and walked along, one behind the other, as the traffic sped past.

 The lad turned into a snicket smelling of kerosene, with a high fence on either side. Then they were under a wide dark sky, following the path over a long grassed meadow that vanished into darkness. They stopped in front of a shed with a padlock on the door. Robert watched the boy as he searched the pockets of his leather jacket. His white face and t-shirt shone in the dark.

The boy took out a bunch of keys from his jacket pocket and held the padlock in the palm of one hand HATE. With the other hand LOVE, he inserted a key and turned it. The padlock slipped open.

‘Careful as you go in, right? Got a ferret. She might try to make a run for it.’

They went in, Robert’s eyes adjusting to the dark.

‘Now then. Take a look at that beauty.’

The lad switched on a light, a light bulb suspended from the ceiling.

Robert drew in his breath.

It was a vintage Triumph Tiger. 500cc.

The gas tank was a cherry red to match the boy’s lips.

Robert exhaled. Blown away.

‘Knew you’d like her. 1969, she is. The real thing. Bloody beaut. Been doin her up. The noise of her is just amazing. Wanna hear?’

He straddled the bike in one fluid movement and started walking her backwards out of the shed. Robert followed. Then he pulled back the throttle and revved the engine. Robert’s brought his hands up to the back of his head and listened to her purr.

‘You hear that? Bloody brilliant! Can’t get that with your fucking Kawasaki’s!’ The lad yelled above the noise. He pushed down the start pedal, letting her rear up in the air, he set off down the path, over the meadow, until he was quite a distance. As he receded Robert’s heart beat seemed louder. The lad turned on the horizon and rode back then stopped, engine still turning in front of Robert.

‘You wanna go then?’ He got off and held the handlebars out to Robert.

Robert slid up over the leather seat feeling it between his thighs. He pulled back the throttle and he was off, swerving at first onto the bumpy grass then finding his rhythm, over the meadow, under the now starry sky. He flexed his fingers opening them on the handlebars, keeping control with the palms of his hands, and moved his body slightly from side to side, keeping a balance, picking up speed.

 He drove back too fast so that the lad had to step aside and the bike all at once slipped on the grass sideways, teetering and tipping over, rolling over on top of him, so that he rolled with it, under it, stopping with his arm in a patch of nettles that bit at him through his long sleeved cotton shirt.

‘Flippin ‘eck! You alright?’

The lad leaned over him, picking up the bike and putting down the crash bar so it stood.

Robert stayed in the grass panting. He didn’t know if he was alright. He could only feel his blood travelling too fast and taste the evening air in his mouth.

The boy leaned over him, extending an arm. Robert looked at the neck line of his T-shirt hanging loose over his collar bone. He wanted this boy.

He heard his Dad’s voice. ‘Get a bit of self-control!’ But the urge was too strong.

Robert took the boy’s arm and pulled hard, pulling him off balance. He fell, putting out a hand into the nettles, and pulling it back in shock, his body colliding onto Robert's.

And Robert grabbed his face and kissed him. He had to manoeuvre his head till he felt those plump lips, licking the red scab with his tongue. He pressed hard, lifting his head up off the ground and he moved his face, creating a circular rhythm with his mouth, licking, sucking, biting at his lips.

The boy drew back.

‘What ya doing?’

‘This.’ Robert answered gasping, pulling him back for more.

He resumed and for a moment he thought it was all up as the boy was so still, then pulled back, pulling away, while Robert exclaimed from his throat only, _stay, please_ , not the words, just the sounds. Then all at once the lad unlocked his mouth. His full lips moved rapidly against Roberts, lapping him, drinking him, sliding a stiff tongue inside his mouth, setting fire to Robert's groin.  

Robert put his hand against the lad’s hair, feeling the wet grease.

They stopped for air.

The boy licked his lips. Holding himself up on his elbows. Robert could see doubt in his eyes, something more; shame, fear? But Robert wanted more, he wanted to open himself up, wanted the same hot wet kisses to travel down his torso. The boy moved back onto his knees.

He looked around, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

‘In the shed.’ He muttered.

Robert crawled up and staggered into the shed. The lad wheeled in the Triumph and closed the door.

They circled each other. Then Robert reached forward, again with his hands on the lad’s face. A slow tentative kiss. He unfastened his own trousers and let them fall all the way down.

His heart hammered.

‘Fucking ‘ell’ The boy said.

He moved his hand forwards and took the boy’s hand LOVE and pushed it against him.

‘Touch me.’ He panted.

He felt the warm soft fingers against the skin of his cock. Pulling back his foreskin, a thumb sliding over him, gliding on the liquid spilling from his head.

And he was moving his hips back and forth so that his cock thrust back and forth in the boy’s hand.

‘Come on. Come on.’

The boy hesitated again.

‘We shouldn’t do this… your Dad.’

Robert laughed, high on adrenaline.

‘Jus shut up and do it.’

He moved a hand to the lad’s trousers rubbing over his hard bulge and then unzipped him.

His cock rolled out into Robert’s hand. He started to work him. Leaning his head against his shoulder.

They picked up speed.

The lad’s white T-shirt grew wet from the moisture leaking from Robert’s mouth.

Robert came. A hit. A shocking high. And then he was floating, and catching his breath, listening to the boy gasping and crying out over his shoulder as he joined him.

They pulled apart. Robert laughing.

‘Yesss!’

 Robert reached forward and took one last long draught of those cherry lips.

They rubbed their fists on some work rags to clean up.

‘You won’t tell your Dad?’ The lad asked. ‘I may need the work.’

Robert smiled and put a hand on his neck gently.

‘So what next?’ The lad asked.

‘It was a one off.’ Robert answered. ‘I need to get home.’

They went outside. The lad found his key. He held the padlock HATE and turned the key LOVE. The lock was in place again.

The lad walked Robert to the bus stop, when the bus came he got on. He rested his head against the window, smiling.

He hadn't had such a high with a girl, yet. Messing about. He would date more girls, then. It wasn’t as if he was gay.

 


End file.
